


All night

by Rominbi



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Bae Joohyun smut, F/F, Fluff, Love, Red Velvet, Smut, im sorry, kpop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rominbi/pseuds/Rominbi
Summary: Irene gets dumped by her boyfriend and you try to make her laugh by straddling her hips and tickling her. I tried to make this smut with a plot. I hope it was successful.





	

 

You’ve always been attracted to Irene.

 

With her light blue nail polish, straight cut brown hair, wide doe eyes and her loving personality. She was the very epitome of amazing and the physical manifestation of the word beautiful. Her soft skin, and her light pink lips; pout and quivering. 

 

She was the nervous type. Always shy and conservative, quiet and tremulous and emotionally disconnected, but that didn’t stop you from getting to know the girl and falling in love with her anyway. 

 

Your personalities were totally opposite. She wasn’t a night owl, but she was a stagnant fixture on social media which meant that she constantly hemmed herself indoors. She hid her emotions under the guise of introversion. She read a copious amount of science fiction and whether she was happy to admit it or not, she was way too devoted to pleasing her friends. Irene is lovely, but people take advantage too often of her generosity. 

 

You are nothing like Irene. 

 

If she were the cerulean sky, you were the graphite night. 

 

You enjoyed the nightlife; the pull of alcohol dreams, the throbbing of bass music in your otherwise lifeless chest and the sillage of short-acting friends you had made crawling back to sobriety. You were messy, loud, even maybe a little obnoxious, but you were a good person with mostly good intentions. 

 

But unlike Irene -a girl sure of herself, you were conflicted. Almost ambivalent. 

 

What started out as an innocent crush in junior high school, turned into something far more sinister at a house party when you and Irene are forced into the closet for 7 minutes of Heaven. 

 

You were both 18, and Irene was wearing a white crop top and a pastel pink pleated skirt that made her legs look smooth as heck. Her long brown hair was swept into a ponytail and she had foregone heels tonight in favour of white slip ons. She looked cute. 

 

You wore ripped black skinny jeans, a white mesh long sleeved shirt with a silk black singlet on top. You had borrowed Joy’s red t-strap heels in a nervous haste to look more feminine. You felt uncomfortable and upon seeing your reflection as you walk into the house party, you immediately regret the shoes because you think you look strange -you’ve never worn heels before. But Irene on the other hand, had thought you looked beautiful. 

 

With wide doe eyes, she flutters her eyelashes at you as she leans on the opposite wall of the small closet. The light beneath the slit of the door, bathes you in enough light to see her facial features. 

 

“Y/N,” you whisper, and her hand reaches out to touch your face. Her fingertips caress along your jawline before her thumb swipes slowly over your bottom lip. “W-we don’t have to do anything. We can just talk for 7 minutes.” 

 

She stands closer to you without saying a word, her hands cupping your cheek. She leans into the crook of your neck and whispers into your ear in a strangled breath. “But what fun would that be?” 

 

She kisses a trail up your neck, before planting her plump lips on the skin behind your ear. You muffle a moan at the prickles of heat that jostle to your heat. Your hands are still hanging loosely by your side, your feet are still planted together and your brain is still in shock that the shoot of the bottle even landed on her. 

 

That you were in 7 minutes of heaven with an angel; Irene. 

 

You don’t know how long you’ve been waiting for this to happen, but now that it actually was, you can’t will yourself to touch her. It felt wrong, and you wanted to make her feel good when it felt right. 

 

She stops kissing your neck and lets go of your face. “Is this okay Y/N?” she asks, her voice suddenly tremulous. “Do you not want me?” 

 

She steps back, leaning her back on the opposite wall. The atmosphere fills with an awkward type of electricity as her warmth fades from the skin she was kissing just a minute before. You can almost heart the myriad of incessant worries scouring her pretty brain in the darkness. 

 

“It’s not that Irene,” you muster, your voice coming out a lot more shaken than you had intended. “I just feel weird about kissing you in the dark.”

 

She laughs softly before her voice sounds serious and accusing “If you didn’t want to kiss me, you could’ve-” 

 

You interrupt her potential rant by pressing forward and kissing her sweet lips. The kiss was brief, chaste, a teaser but it felt like a blossoming rose. You didn’t want her to be angry at you. You didn’t want her to think that you didn’t want to kiss her, because oh god you did. 

 

You always did. 

 

You want to kiss Irene everytime she laughs. Everytime she smiles. Everytime she cries. It’s crazy a thought to think that maybe your lips were made to kiss hers, but you can’t help it. She’s Irene and you’re Y/N; the moon and the stars. 

 

You watch the surging tide of need fill her eyes as they flicker down to your lips. You slowly interweave your fingers through her hair as she stays quiet and still against you. With one hand in her hair and the other against the wall beside her head, you bend down and kiss her. Gently at first and then Irene fists the lapels of your jacket pulling you closer. The kiss gradually intensifies; your pulse gradually increases and your mind hazes. You don’t know what this feel is akin to, but you love every second of it. 

 

You’re getting lost in her. 

 

You press your lips to the pale column of her neck before climbing her neck to nip at the junction where her neck meets her shoulder.  It’s a strange feeling to feel completely lost but so fucking happy that she’s so close and that you’re finally kissing her the way you’ve imagined for years. 

 

She pulls you up to her mouth and kisses you with a feral urgency to taste every inch of your mouth. Your mind is skirting along the threshold of complete intoxication and as you hear the timer going off and your friends running towards the closet. Your heart turns off and your brain turns back on, you shouldn’t be doing this. 

 

You can’t be doing this. 

 

You push off of her harshly and the dejected look on her face is the only thing you see when the closet door gets ripped open and the lights of the living room flood in. Your friends laugh loudly at your swollen lips and your disheveled appearance. Hoseok gives Seulgi a twenty dollar note behind Joy and they scream with happiness that you finally kissed Irene, but your ears only hear static. 

 

You were a spectacle, a bet and you loved Irene more than you should and that scared you. You turn your gaze back to the woman in front of you, but cower at meeting her eyes. 

 

Irene is watermelon pink and her eyes are filled with tears of hurt. 

 

You run at the sight of freedom with a hand over your chest. She is the air you want to breathe but the feelings she made you feel was the same noose that suffocated you. You ran until your lungs burned and then you regretted running and leaving her to cry. 

 

After that night, it became a cycle of regret. The relationship that blooms as a result of that Saturday night was a stark difference to the 7 minutes of your closet relationship; Irene completely ignored you and any premise of love evaporated against the heat of her fury. You couldn’t really complain though because you were the one who made it like that.

 

And all you could do was regret it.

 

You weren't close to her in college, she lived in between the pages of a James Patterson novel and you lived fighting the bass of club music. It was great. You felt completely dead inside but the throbbing of bass music through your system kept you alive enough to kiss the lips of strangers and grind your hips against those of short-acting friends. 

 

It’s when you’re 21 that your relationship returns to a relative normal. It’s a chilly November night when you see her dancing in the middle of a club alone. Her midnight jet black hair cascaded in deep locks down her blue dress and her arms were raised towards the roof interweaving through the strobes of light. 

 

She looked amazing. 

 

The strobes kissed her pale skin as she drops her arms to accentuate every curve of her body with each sensual wave of her hips. Her eyes are closed and she’s simply feeling the groove of the music.

 

She was ethereal and you get off the barstool to join her. 

 

She smiles forgivingly. 

 

You dance together for the rest of the night. 

 

You were 22 when you found yourself falling in love with her again. 

 

Her presence was like moonlight against your skin. Her laugh made your limbs feel like honey. Her voice was akin to the soft melody of the faintest harp. And her touch, you don’t understand how the soft touch of her fingertips can elicit such a strong response in your chest. 

 

Your heart was going to burst in love for her. You needed to say it. To do something. To tell her how you felt. Your soul was dying from the suffocation. Your mind was scratching against the black walls of your conscious for relief. You were going insane beside her, and she had no absolute idea. 

 

Irene was a naive type of girl. She was smart but her natural innocence meant that she took what people said and did at face value, she never questioned people’s motives. That is why she’s at your house tonight. Her boyfriend of 4 months had asked for a change and naively, Irene thought that meant for her to change her appearance. After dying her hair a shade of lavender, her boyfriend had dumped her that afternoon for her spontaneity and Irene couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked her delicate frame. Apparently she gave him whiplash, but she had never looked hotter, and the logic made you confused as hell.

 

She was a mess and so were you. You were just better at hiding it than her.  

 

“I just don’t understand why he doesn’t like me anymore? Am I not like attractive to anyone?” she sobs, pressing her face into your chest. Upon setting up a comedy movie to make her laugh, she had curled herself around you. Her legs were tucked in between yours and her chest was against your arm. You tried not to notice her hardened nipples against your forearm. 

 

And you tried harder to ignore her soft fingertips rubbing over your braless chest as she sobbed. You were in matching pink silk pyjamas but it didn’t hide the arousal one bit. Especially now that it was Summer and you and Irene had forgone pants. Her legs were silky smooth and she was rubbing her thigh up against yours thoughtlessly.

 

_ Y/N, stop thinking about sex. She’s upset, think about her feelings. Comfort her. Hold her, think about sex when she leaves. You can do this. It’s just another day.  _

 

She had you gulping air nervously, afraid that she’d smell the arousal seeping out of your skin and reject you. 

 

“Y/N,” she says, lifting her head off your chest she peeps at you with sad doe eyes. “Am I not pretty?” 

 

“Irene, you’re beautiful. Don’t think about him okay, he’s trash. You deserve better.” you frowned down at her, stern with your opinion. You lean down and kiss her on the forehead and she sighs with relief before relaxing back against you.

 

_ There you go. Be a friend, not a hoe. You’re doing well.  _

 

“Then what did I do wrong? I don’t understand.” she begins to cry again and the sound tears a hole in your heart. You had to make her smile or laugh or something. 

 

Grabbing her waist harshly she gasps in confusion. “What are you doing?” 

 

You smile devilishly at her before tickling her with all your might. She writhes against you in a giggling mess before trying to escape your clutches. 

 

“Y/N,” she pants through laughter, “Stop ..I can’t ...breath.Y/N! Stop!” 

 

You laugh evilly, before hooking your leg over her waist and straddling her hips. She looks up at you in worry. “Please Y/N, I’ll throw up.” 

 

You begin tickling her so hard that she begins rolling her hips and laughing wildly underneath you. She was cute but the pain and shortness of breath etched into her features, made you soften your tickles. 

 

Irene was super ticklish, but her laugh was the cutest thing in the world to you and you wanted to hear it earnest and sincere. Laughter is the world’s best medicine after all.   

 

But, it’s all fun and games until her lavender hair splays across the pillows and over her face, and a course of pleasure runs straight to your core as she writhes underneath you. It’s all fun and games when you move the strands from her face. Until you notice the look in her eyes and hear the most beautiful moan fall from her beautiful trembling lips. It’s all fun and games until you realise just how much that turned you on. 

 

“Did you just moan?” you ask, halting your movements on top of her. Her pink silken pyjama top had ridden up to expose the bottom of her breasts and her cheeks were rose from exertion. 

 

She bites her lip and her hooded eyes stare up at you. “I wasn't moaning, I was suppressing my screams so the neighbours don't hear and think that we’re having sex. Of anything I was looking out for you.”

 

You pull down her pyjama shirt. “That sure as hell sounded like a moan Irene. Don’t tell me you have a tickle fetish?” 

 

“I’m not ticklish,” she refutes before hooking her foot up flipping you onto your back. Your shorts hike up in the movement and she sits comfortably on your pelvis. “But I bet you are.” 

 

She starts tickling you and the sensation of her body against your clit sends a course of heat through your body. You aren’t ticklish, but the way she feels rolling her hips against you, feels too good to not fake it. 

 

You can see her hardened  nipples bounce against the pink silk of her shirt and her lavender hair falls in strands around her face. She looks so disheveled that you could cum at the sight. She was beautiful. 

 

Irene starts rolling her hips harder against yours and you're so sure you're wet that you halt her hips tightly as she throws back her head and bites back a moan. You're so turned on by the innocent does of her eyes that it scares you. 

 

“I’m really not Irene,” you smirk, but your eyes gravitate to the tugging of her lip between her teeth. “You’re the ticklish one here.” 

 

Flipping her suddenly onto her back, her shirt hikes up to her collarbone. Her breasts are on view and you nearly completely freeze to gaze at them. You wanted to run your tongue over her perky nipples and suck her skin until it was purple and blue, until she told you to stop. 

 

“You're so ticklish Irene.” you choke away your lust as you tickle her sides. She rolls her hips against yours as she laughs and if you weren’t completely wet before, you were now. You roll your hips against her clit until you realise you're no longer tickling her at all and she’s no longer fighting you either. Until she's holding your hips to meet your rolls. 

 

She turns her face into her pillow to bite into the fabric and whimpers of your name are incoherently falling out of her beautiful mouth. You smile at her languid lids. 

 

“Have I tickled you out Irene? You need a moment?” you ask coyly as you halt all movement above her. You get off her hips albeit reluctantly and sit beside her body.  

 

You're almost shocked at the wet patch on her panties as you turn back to her. She's just as turned on as you. She looks grief stricken at the loss of friction before looking back at you. “I'm not ticklish.”

 

“YOU ARE SO TICKLISH WHAT THE HECK!” you shout with a laugh before getting back on her hips to straddle her again. “I’m going to make you scream.” 

 

You smirk, hazed with desire as her eyes plead for your touch. Her hands reach out to touch any part of you and you start rolling your hips so hard and so fast that Irene can't control the moans that fall out. 

 

“Ahh,” she bites her lips. “I’m not ticklish at all”

 

Grinding into her core, your hands fumble just below her breasts. “I guess I’ll have to keep going until you admit that you are.” 

 

Your blood is rushing so hard and your heart is pounding so quickly that you swear if she touches you one more time, your heart is going to combust. Irene laughs tremulously before grabbing your hand and rubbing it on her chest. “I guess you’ll have to keep going all night because I’ll never admit such a thing.” 

 

You stare at her lust filled eyes before your shotgun heart explodes in your chest. She bites her lip as she stares deeper into your eyes. Your hands are grabbing and rubbing, pinching and caressing the soft skin of her breasts. 

 

“All night?” you gush, rubbing your thumbs over her pink nipples. “Aren’t you ambitious.” 

 

Irene runs her hands up your stomach, hungry for the feel of your skin. Her fingernails are coated in the blue you love so much and you nearly laugh at the feral look in her eyes. What boyfriend? Irene was going ham on touching you. 

 

Blowing the hair from her ponytail out of her face, she smirks up at you “What can I say? Sometimes you gotta be bold.” 

 

You laugh. “So if I were to be bolder, that would be okay with you?” 

 

“Just don’t stop.” she snaps, as she pulls you down to her lips. Your nose rubs against hers before your opened lips interlock. Your brain stops at the softness of her lips; you wonder what products she uses to make them so goddamn soft. 

 

Repositioning the angle of your face, you feel her smile against your lips as if this was the most natural thing. As if she had kissed you a million times before. As if this was her happy place. As if she wanted this just as much as you.

 

Irene grabs your hand with hers and interlaces her fingers with yours as you nibble her bottom lip. She shivers underneath you before kissing you again. Her tongue chases yours and the sensation is definitely one of the weirdest you’ve ever had, but holy shit wow. She was amazing at kissing, like really amazing. Pushing her harder into the mattress, you press your tongue against hers, licking and prodding every inch of her mouth. She hums a moan as she tries to meet your kisses. And you let her, kissing her passionately, grinding your hips softly into hers with each reposition of your face.

 

You’re short of breath when you finally pull away from her. Her lips are swollen and no doubt, so are yours. Her eyes are searching, scouring for meaning in yours. “That feels so good.” she says, her voice strangled from pent up desire. 

 

You kiss her nose before whispering with a hoarse voice. “I know what would feel even better.” 

 

Getting off her body, she stares at you in confusion. “What are doing, where are you going baby?” she asks and the nickname has you smiling gleefully at her. 

 

“Baby?” you raise an eyebrow and she blushes pink. Smirking, you lean over and press a chaste kiss against her soft lips. “It’s okay, you can call me anything you want.”

 

Getting off the bed, you shimmy out of your underwear with your back facing her. You can feel her hungry eyes watch your every movement, skim over every curve of your body and her sudden silence fills the air with anticipation.

 

Turning around, you gasp at the sight of her ferociously biting her lip and playing with her nipples. She just couldn’t wait. Grabbing her legs, you slowly pull down her underwear. You kiss down her thighs as you remove her wet panties from her ankles and you throw them into your laundry basket. There would be no reason to wear them at all tonight. 

 

Climbing on the bed, you crawl over her before straddling her hips. 

 

“What are you doing?” she asks dryly, feigning ignorance as she unbuttons her shirt and throws it to the floor. 

 

“Let’s stop playing that game Irene. You know exactly what I’m doing.” 

 

She tilts her head at you and you begin rolling your hips and the sensation of your clit against hers is so intense that Irene practically screams a moan. Arching her back, she bites her lips so hard that the indent in her bottom lip seeps with blood. 

 

“I can’t do this anymore, I need more.” she pants and immediately rolls you onto your back. Her eyes are an intense shade of onyx and urgent. In between your legs, she lifts your right leg and rests it on her left; dropping your left leg, she rests her right on top. “Oh god, you’re so beautiful.” 

 

She shuffles closer until you can feel her bud against yours. Holding your right thigh she begins the onslaught of fucking into your heat. Her clit against yours, her thighs smacking against yours, the pleasure etched onto her face, her perky breasts bouncing against her chest. Each roll of her hips against yours has you grovelling and moaning for her. Each dig of her nails into your thighs as you panting and chanting incoherently scrambles of her name. You can feel the mountain you’re chasing so close to your horizon, but you need more to really feel it. You need more of her.  

 

Grabbing her left thigh, you meet her thrusts with an intensity of pure fucking need and she moans so loud and so beautifully that you could’ve came just at the sound of it. 

 

“Fuxk fuck fuck fuck,” she chants and you lean your head back. “Harder,” she begs, her nails digging into your thigh again, breaking the skin into little crescent moons. “I'm close. Oh fuck, I’m so close baby.” 

 

You pull her closer and fuck her so hard that she screams when she cums and the languid moan that falls out of her pretty mouth is breathtaking on its own.  You’re angry that you don’t have a permanent audio recorder in your brain, that was beautiful. She begins to lightly chuckle as she settles from her high. 

 

Irene is ethereal. 

Chasing your own release she begins to scream and twitch in over sensitivity but you're so turned on by it that you fuck her harder. She lets go of your thigh and you fuck her harder as she shudders against you. Irene thumbs your clit in slow realisation that you haven’t came yet. 

 

“I need more.” you beg, digging your nails into her thighs. “Please Irene, shit.”

 

Irene kisses your stomach as she pushes you back down against the mattress. Crawling down your body, you pant as she kisses your mound before kitten licking your clit. “Irene, please I cant-

 

She suckes on the hood of your bud suddenly and you thrust your hips into her face on reflex. Irene giggles against your heat before flattening her tongue. You're too gone to give a fuck as you move your hips against her face. Your thighs clench around her head as you fuck her face and you cum so hard that you swear you black out for a second.

 

You fall back onto the sheets with beads of sweat on your forehead and an exhausted Irene at your feet. Standing up, she walks over to the windows to air the room out. Something you’ll thank her for when your brain hasn’t turned into complete potatoes. Irene grabs a cloth from your bathroom and cleans you up with it before chucking it into the laundry basket and crawling beside you. She tucks her head into the groove of your neck and kisses the soft skin behind your ear. 

 

“I thought you hated me,” you say, as your head rolls to lay on hers. “I honestly thought I blew my chance with you.” 

 

Irene sighs and her breath sends a course of shivers down your spine. “I could never hate you. I just- I was so hurt that you were embarrassed of me at that party. I was so sensitive back then and I mean, so what if everyone saw us kissing. I liked you alot and I knew you liked me too. You made it so obvious.” 

 

“I wasn’t embarrassed of you Irene, I could never,” you whisper, turning over and wrapping your arms around her. “I was honestly so afraid of my feelings for you. If I could go back I would change that entire night.” 

 

“What would you do differently?” she asks as she fumbles with the ends of your hair. 

 

You kiss her nose. 

You kiss her cheeks. 

You kiss her forehead. 

You kiss her smiling lips. 

 

She laughs with childish excitement as she melts into your arms with a content and happy sigh. 

 

“Irene, I would’ve kissed you all night.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

You laugh at the softness in her voice. She was so cozy and warm in your arms. Pulling the covers over your exhausted body, you pull her closer under the blanket if that was even humanly possible. And you nod against her, 

  
  


“All. Night.” 

 


End file.
